droit du seigneur
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The procession wound up the path from the village to the Manor house. The Lord of the Manor stood looking out the window at the villagers dancing up the lane. They were well along in their liquid celebrations. The bride was at the head of the procession. She was carrying a small bouquet of wildflowers and had some ribbon wound in her hair. She's not unattractive, the Lord thought. She had washed her face and hands for her wedding celebration. This might be a pleasant night.
Droit de Seigneur, the Right of the Lord. Lord Otto, the eighth of his line to hold this fief in fealty to the Count Burgundy smiled. Every bride was brought on her wedding eve to the manor where they spent their first night of marriage in his bed.
Last year the Burgher of the village had arranged to have his daughter wed the week that Lord Otto made his annual trek to the seat of the Count to reaffirm his loyalty and present gifts to the Count and Countess. It was a nuisance and an expensive custom but one, which the lords of the province knew, was in their best interests. Lord Otto returned to find the Burgher's daughter married and the village in an uproar. It seems the Burgher's daughter knowing that as the Burgher's daughter she would of course spend her first night at the Lord's manor had dallied with a boy in the village. Her new husband's family had taken umbrage that his new wife was no longer virgin. They had risked the displeasure of the Lord to assure just that. The Burgher and the bridegroom's father had come to blows in the village square. Since then the village families were much more careful when their daughter seemed to look forward to her night in the Manor knowing it covered a multitude of sins.
A smile crossed his face as he thought back. He had come into the title young. Our Most Gracious Heavenly Father had called his father, the seventh of the line, in the spring of Otto's seventeenth year. He had been the Lord for over twenty years. How many girls had been brought to him since then? Scores certainly. He was no longer surprised when a virgin bride seemed to know more than would be expected. Many of them rutted like a stoat in heat. Oh yes, the Droit de Seigneur covered a multitude of sins.
This girl seemed as though she might really be a virgin. She looked to have no more than thirteen years. It was much more usual for a bride to be fourteen or fifteen. One lass last winter had been eighteen on her wedding day. But she had no dowry and was ugly as well so her late marriage was not unexpected.
He should be heading down to the entrance hall. Custom demanded that he personally welcome the girl. He turned from the window and looked over his chamber. His wife had thoughtfully turned down the bed. His was, of course, a marriage of convenience. She was the first daughter of a neighboring lord and the marriage was in partial payment for a trading right conferred by his father-in-law to his father. She had given him three sons and two daughters before her womb had dried up. She was quite happy now as the lady of the manor entertaining wandering minstrels and wives of the Burghers in the villages of his fief. She encouraged him to find his entertainment as he could. The nunnery in the province was a good place to find such entertainment. The nuns offered services for a fee. Saint Tomas Aquinas, following Saint Augustine's advice, had encouraged the church to establish brothels and many Bishops, realizing the monetary possibilities of such services, had readily agreed. St. Tomas hadn't reckoned with the ecclesiastical authorities turning nunneries into brothels to accomplish this purpose. Between the Droit de Seigneur, the nuns and some widows who could always use a chicken for the pot he found his appetites well satisfied.
Arriving in the Great Hall, Otto was pleased to see the wedding procession was being escorted to the hall. The father stepped forward. "Milord. I wish to present my daughter, Anne."
Otto stepped forward and accepted the bows. "I am most pleased to meet your daughter. How may I be of service?"
"Milord. My daughter has this day been trothed to Heinrich the farmer who has much land in grapes and is a loyal bondsman of the manor. It would be a great boon to all if you were to bestow your blessing on this happy event."
Otto looked at the girl, her head down demurely. She was a fair girl but did look young to be wed. "I will bestow my blessing on this union." The processioners shouted their approval. Otto raised his hands to quiet them. "Chamberlain. Ho Chamberlain. Serve my guests wine in the courtyard." To even greater shouts, "All are invited to the courtyard to join in the celebration."
The rough men trooped out to the courtyard singing lewd drinking songs and making crude jests about the coming night. The father stayed behind until the tumult had quieted. He took his daughter's hand. "Daughter." She glanced up. "Tonight you serve the lord of the manor. Do not embarrass your mother or me."
"Father, I will not."
He patted her hand. "You are a good daughter." He turned to Lord Otto. "Milord. She is my only daughter..."
"Good man. I will treat her as one of my own manor. She will have honor this eve."
Bowing, "Thank you Milord." He took a last look at his daughter and retreated to the courtyard. In the courtyard the manor servants were pouring every man a tankard of wine and sending them on their way.
Otto turned to Anne. "Come. We will have food." She followed behind as he headed down a hall to the dining room. The table was being set with food as he entered. Taking his seat at the table he motioned her to sit at his left, the seat of honor. It was the only night of her life when she would attain such honors. It was a moment to be treasured. She sat in the high-backed chair and stared at her plate.
"Come girl, look up. You can't eat staring at the plate."
"Yes Milord." She looked around the room. All these servants. What would it be like to live this way? As a peasant she was virtually indentured to the Manor. Her life mapped at her birth. Marriage, children and an early demise all accompanied by unremitting toil.
Otto drew a tray to him with a roast pullet on it. He daintily tore off one leg and set it on her plate. The other leg he ripped off and set on his own. He wiped his greasy hands on the table before grabbing the leg and setting to. Anne gazed at the Lord appreciative of his manners. She took the leg in hand and started eating. It was long since she had this much meat at a meal. Meat was usually reserved for feast days and even then was sparing.
Otto ripped the flesh from the bones proud that at his advanced age of thirty-seven he still had all his teeth. "How is the pullet girl?"
"It is wonderful Milord. It is many months since we had such in our house."
"Good then. Eat your fill. It will give you strength for the night." Anne blushed. "Don't blush girl. This eve is not for blushing virgins. Tonight you'll straddle the Lord of the Manor and in the morn be a woman indeed."
He grabbed the flagon of wine and poured a cup full for himself. He set the flagon down for Anne. She poured some in her cup and then poured water in to top it off in the manner of the peasants.
Otto belched loudly to show his appreciation for the meal before tearing off another handful of pullet and setting it on his plate. Out of the common bowl he grabbed some stewed vegetable and set those on Anne's plate and some on his. He continued to attack the food until he was full. Anne had downed her share of the food as well. He sat back pleased that he girl had enjoyed the repast. He wiped the grease from his beard on his hand and then on the table.
He filled her cup from the flagon and topped off his. "Drink it pure girl. This is fine wine from my own estate."
"Thank you Milord. I have never had better."
Otto smiled. He was passionate about his wine. "Indeed so girl. Those lackeys in Bordeaux brag about the foul slop they call wine. Here," he said pointing at the flagon. "Here is wine that our own Lord Jesus would serve on his Heavenly table. Why, everyone knows that it was good Burgundy wine that was shipped to Jerusalem and served by Our Lord at the Last Supper. The Benedictine abbot has told me that the grapes came from this region. Maybe from my own demesne." He downed his cup in a gulp, "Ahhh. This is nectar of the Gods indeed."
Otto sat back pleased with the dinner. "Have you had enough food girl?"
"Yes Milord. I could not eat again for many days."
"Hah. We'll see if you still say that after our work this eve. Come morn I expect you'll have revived your appetite. Don't you blush girl." Anne looked down to hide her face. "Hmm, perhaps by the morn you'll not be blushing at every turn."
Otto stood up from the table. "Come girl." Anne stood and followed Otto down a hall and then up a flight of stairs. Down another hall Otto stopped in front of a great wooden door. He pushed it open and stood aside. He motioned her forward.
She entered the room. Anne stopped just across the threshold. Her head spun with the beauty of the room. She looked at the great bed never having seen the like in her life. A usual bed was a board with some straw or reeds. How could she have imagined anything the like of what was before her? A great mattress filled with down. Draped over the bed was a quilt also filled with down. Brightly colored tapestries hung everywhere softening the rough stone walls. A rug covered the floor. Anne stepped forward into the dream room. She was fortunate beyond belief to be spending one night of her life in such luxury. Stepping on the rug, the softness was apparent even through her clogs. She ran her hands over the bed feeling the softness of the down filled mattress.
Otto stepped through the door and closed it softly behind. He had seen many peasant girls thralled by the opulence of his room. How many had ever seen a rug or a tapestry in person? How many had ever felt a down quilt.
Lord Otto softened his countenance. He no longer need be the Lord. Now he could be just a man. He had learned from experience how to be gentle in the night with a new girl. His first few times entertaining a new bride he was rough and hurried. Some of the girls had left in the morn with tears in their eyes. But his wife had taught him to be a gentler lover. He took a Gallic pride in his abilities to leave the girls with a smile. Oh yes, many girls left in the morning with smiles and memories of their one glorious night being treated like the lady of the manor.
Of course the girls came to the manor knowing much already. Peasants lived in one room huts or hovels and grew watching their parents rut. Anne and her brothers would sneak to the edge of the loft often when their parents would couple. They would poke each other as they watched. They would silently giggle watching their father bounce between their mother's thighs. When Anne felt the winds of change blowing through her body she surveyed the scene in rapt attention feeling strangely uneasy. Her body was doing strange things now. In the past year it had affected her deeply when she observed her parents couple. She began to look forward to her marriage and wondered what it would feel like to have a man between her thighs. Would she moan as her mother did? What will it be like when the Lord pierces her with his cock?
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